


A Creative Idea

by Laeviss



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Anduin fucking Wrathion in dragon form I'm not sure what else you want from me, Cloaca, Cloaca Fucking, Dragon sex, M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 12:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17080304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeviss/pseuds/Laeviss
Summary: Wrathion, now Stormwind's royal consort, finds illustrations of dragons and humans together and brings them to King Anduin's attention. Once the subject has been broached, the two of them cannot let it rest without trying it out.





	A Creative Idea

**Author's Note:**

> This is set a few years in the future. Wrathion is a drake, and Anduin is about 30.
> 
> Also Wrathion is trans.

Wrathion’s eyes burned in the darkness, dusting his cheeks in a crimson halo as he looked up at Anduin from the pillow. “Well, my king, I had no idea humans had such a…fascination with dragon anatomy. Color me surprised!”

There was very little the king could say in response. He coughed and cleared his throat, but the images he had seen—images Wrathion himself had recovered from the guard post—still lingered in the forefront of his thoughts. A human knight bending over a drake and lifting their tail to penetrate them, and two young nobles working their hands over the textured length of a phallus far too large for either of them to take…

Anduin blushed and averted his eyes. Just knowing that Wrathion had seen the same thing was enough to make a lump stick in his throat. But it was a swelling of a different sort that had him even more concerned. He shifted his hips, scooting to the left so his body no longer pressed against Wrathion’s. Wrathion must have noticed because he simply followed his movement, rocking, positioning his leg back between Anduin’s thighs. 

That gesture alone was enough to make the king weak. There was no hiding the bulge in his sleeping pants now, and Wrathion responded with knowing enthusiasm, squirming just enough to brush the tent with this hip. 

“Ah-!” A sharp exhale escaped him. He felt very much like a teenager again, like they had felt entwined under the blankets on those nights at the Tavern in the Mists. Wrathion had whispered back then just like he whispered now, bringing up thoughts, images, even, that the young Wrynn couldn’t process without a blush. 

But he was a man now, and the dragon had touched and teased and tried things the two of them had barely imagined in their youth. Why, then, was this thought—this single crude, bawdy pamphlet—sending trembles from his cock to the soles of his feet?

Maybe it was the way Wrathion let his words languish into a moan.

“But you know, my dear, they get a bit wrong about our anatomy. Those fantasies are clearly nothing but dreams. If they had been with a real dragon, they’d know.”

_Know what?_ Anduin wanted to ask. Instead all he could do was prop himself up on his elbow and bring his free hand to rest against the slight curve of Wrathion’s chest. 

His fingers trembled a bit as he toyed with Wrathion’s shirt. Sliding along the strap, they found their way to the trail of hair between his soft pecs, and then to the warm skin below. The dragon’s sigh felt like a tiny victory, but it lasted merely a moment before his consort regained the upper hand. 

“I could show you, you know. You are welcome to penetrate me.”

Anduin’s body froze. Even with the dragon spread out beside him, his face caught in the light of his own draconic eyes and a thin curl of smoke lingering in the space between them, the king had never imagined…well, he knew he was courting a dragon, of course, but they were humans, they kissed and made love as _humans_ , and yet—

Wrathion’s body had grown. He had seen him spread his wings and take flight over the city, seen the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin and his passing shape shrouded the streets in shadows. He had even slid his palm over the dragon’s muzzle and savored the smooth sheen of scales that parted into a maw of sharp teeth. 

There was nothing separating Wrathion’s dragon body from the drakes he’d seen in the pamphlet. Now that he realized as much, he started to understand why it had lingered his mind with such potency. 

He swallowed. Not knowing what else to do, he left Wrathion’s chest to instead slide his thumb along the curve of his cheek. His skin contrasted the scales Anduin’s fingers remembered. His plump lower lip and tiny wet tongue were so unlike the dragon’s maw, and yet both sides were _him_. There was a whole body Anduin’s touch hardly knew. There were so many parts he had yet to explore and realizing that felt strange, somehow.

All the king could do to answer was sigh, short, and a bit awkward. Wrathion didn’t press, instead leaning back onto the pillow and yielding to the man’s thumb between his lips.

Shifting onto his knees, Anduin crawled between his legs. Now with his face above him, he could watch the dragon’s eyes change, his slit pupils widening as Anduin’s still-clothed bulge rubbed against his slit. 

“Mh, yes, my king.” 

This…this was familiar. And thankfully Wrathion didn’t ask whether this sudden show of enthusiasm stemmed from his suggestion. At least for now, the dragon kept the obvious to himself.

“Oh, King Anduin,” he murmured instead when the king’s thumb abandoned his mouth to play with his goatee. He tilted back his head, and his horns scratched the pillow. Anduin rocked his hips forward. His clothed cock rubbed against Wrathion’s clit, and the dragon jerked and arched his back up to meet him.

This was the dance Anduin knew. Their lips brushed, and a human-like hand trailed along the line of his beard from his ear to the tip of his chin. The dragon’s claws scratched the light dusting of hair, but Anduin knew those nails. He knew the union of human and creature, the scars that cut across his skin, and even the inhuman heat that issued from his mouth during moments of particular arousal. 

It was what he did not know, however, that stayed with him. Even as they kissed and Wrathion’s tongue worked against his, he thought to that drawing, the look of ecstasy on that human’s face, and he wondered…no, dreamed of the heat that must have surrounded his cock as he bore down into the dragon’s body. 

What must that knight have been thinking? What had it taken for him to join himself with a drake, irrespective of shame or concern or anything else he had learned as a human in Stormwind? Illustration or not, he made it look easy, with his eyes squeezed closed, his fingers clenching scaled skin and his length sinking in. Anduin could almost feel it, could almost imagine Wrathion’s muscular body and his slit opening, inviting him in, enticing him—

“Ah!” The sound rose unbidden to Anduin’s lips, breaking their kiss. His cock throbbed and strained against the front of his pants, and heat crept up his neck to stain his face from cheekbone to jaw. He was grateful for the darkness and the already-red glow of his boyfriend’s eyes, even if he knew Wrathion must have felt it.

“I mean, if that’s something you would be interested in, of course. I imagine you must be curious,” Wrathion continued his invitation as if it had never been dropped in the first place. His voice—equal parts teasing and hesitant, urging the king even while it hitched with his own half-contained inhibition—reached a crescendo when he chuckled and let himself admit, “I could likely even still fit in your bed. Perhaps its gratuitous size will serve his Majesty’s needs, after all.”

Those words proved too much for the king. All of the sudden, the image in his mind changed to Wrathion’s dragon body spread out across his overlarge bed, open and waiting for him. And no amount of banter or laughter could chase that away.

No, he had reached a place from which he could not come back. Wrapping his arms around Wrathion’s torso and hiding his face against his neck, he breathed in. He took a moment to cling to the man’s familiar heat and then, finally, nodded against his shoulder. “Yes. I would like that. To try, I mean. If you will.”

“Oh, yes, I will. Please, scoot back, my dear.”

So that was it, then. No shyness from Wrathion or pause for either of them to change their minds. Anduin crawled to the edge of the mattress and then felt the bed yawn beneath him. His transformation rippled through its frame, and when Anduin turned back he could make out Wrathion’s shape stretched out, belly bare, with his talons curled up against his chest. 

It was…cute, really. It set his nerves at ease, and he chuckled. Wrathion raised his draconic head from the pillow to look, and for the first time that evening sounded completely unnerved. “Is something wrong, my dear?”

“Oh, no!” Anduin answered without hesitation. He didn’t want his consort to get the wrong impression. He just smiled and shook his head, reaching over to flip on his lamp to get a better view. If there were going to do this…well, they were going to do it fully, and right. When he swallowed again there was nothing left in his throat. 

The magical lamp caught its spark and spilled light across the dragon’s thick body. What had once been half-shrouded in shadows now glittered in hues of sleek onyx and orange, punctuated by black talons tipped in gold. His bracelets still circled his limbs, jangling when he shifted his weight to look up in Anduin’s direction.

Their eyes met. Anduin could almost get lost in his large, glowing eyes and slit pupils that now looked thoroughly at home. Smoke curled from the dragon’s nostrils, and when he spoke it was with the same lilt as before, but in tones that shook Anduin to the base of his spine. “Well, do you like it?” Wrathion murmured, and Anduin nodded, entranced. His cock, which had gone flaccid in a moment of nerves, now twitched back to life with interest. 

“Yes, very much,” Anduin finally managed. That seemed to satisfy the dragon, and he flicked his forked tongue across his teeth. The king’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, struggled to quell a wave of excited jitters that threatened to crawl up his spine.

So, this was it. He stretched out his hand, landing somewhere at the dragon’s midsection. The scales here were even softer than those on his face, and Anduin took his time, flexing his fingers slightly, then trailing the pad of his thumb along one of their smooth ridges. Wrathion seemed to approve, a rumble building low in his throat. 

“Mh, yes, take your time, my dear,” he invited, and rolled back on his spine for emphasis. 

Pursing his lips, Anduin nodded, his brows knitting together in concentration as a few stray hairs escaped from behind his ear to swish against his blush-stained cheek. 

Every time Wrathion moved Anduin felt his muscles clenching and working together in unfamiliar ways. When the dragon lifted his forelimb, Anduin sensed the strength in his torso. When he shuddered, Anduin followed the tremble from his neck to his swishing tail.

And yet, there were also those details he knew quite well. Running his hand from his shoulder to chest he found scars, just like the scars he had memorized on Wrathion’s human body The scales around them picked up greys not unlike the smatterings of vitiligo that blossomed across his human skin, and Anduin found himself smiling, admiring all the ways his consort was both the same and different, familiar and wholly unknown. 

These details had all been there before, but he was finding them in a new picture, reassembled into the dragon he had always known to exist in theory but never with this viscerality. 

And Anduin wanted nothing more than to know. 

Sliding the palm of his hand down the dragon’s abdomen earned him a low exhale. Wrathion’s horns knocked against the headboard and his crest scratched the pillows beneath his long neck. The king took it all in; he traced his scales and watched as the dragon’s chest rose and fell, eyes burning, claws clutching ever-so-gently at the top of his thigh. Whether it was to steady himself or to urge the king forward Anduin couldn’t tell.

He just kept rubbing and watching with furrowed brows. It was hard to judge a dragon’s reaction by his face, so he clung to the growls and murmurs, the way his body twitched beneath scaled skin. But then his hand slid lower and he found all the proof he needed of his consort’s enjoyment. 

Just before Wrathion’s tail was a part, a small slit, that had opened between his scales. Anduin followed the edge with his thumb and then, with eyes locked on the dragon’s face, dipped a single finger inside. He was met with wetness and a kind of velvety heat, and then Wrathion moaned, loud enough to shake the mattress beneath them.

“Oh, my king!” Anduin felt Wrathion’s gasp lingering in the air. His own cock twitched and pressed against the front of his sleeping pants. His finger, once tentative, started to grow bolder, tracing the slit again and then dipping fully into the dragon’s warmth. He lingered and savored the way Wrathion clenched around him. Even as his hole tightened, his scales parted further to reveal more of his glistening flesh. 

Anduin looked down and bit his lip. He hadn’t expected him to be so soft, or to move with quite this _intensity_. It took him a moment to compose himself. Finally, he brushed back his hair with his free hand and chanced a quick glance back in Wrathion’s direction.

The dragon had dug his horns into the pillows. His slit pupils had spread and swallowed almost all the red in his eyes. Even as his hole tightened around Anduin’s finger his maw parted and smoke escaped between his teeth. He gasped out a quick but earnest confession, clearly trying to look away but unable to hide his now-large head from the human’s gaze. 

“It’s just, I’ve never had anything in there before,” he admitted. It wasn’t surprising, but Anduin still responded immediately, sliding his finger out and letting his hand fall away.

“I hope it wasn’t uncomfortable?” He waited and watched. The mattress groaned when Wrathion tried to shake his head.

“No, no, not at all. It, ah, it felt nice, really. Please continue, Anduin.”

Hearing the dragon use his name without any titles or flourish set his concerns aside. It was rare for Wrathion to speak to him so directly, and when he did, it was only in truly intimate moments. Relief washed over the king and he smiled. Emboldened, he shifted to straddle the dragon’s tail, sliding down until his face was just inches away from his slit. 

From this new vantage point, he could watch his scales parting and the dark flesh beneath them tremble and clench. Unable to help himself, he pressed his lips first against the opening, then trailed his tongue to taste the dragon’s juices. He was strong and muskier than in his human form, and Anduin couldn’t help but savor it, flicking, teasing, trying to see how wide he would open with every kiss and probe.

Finally, carefully, he pressed his finger back in him. This time he met no resistance, easily adding a second, then a third, to the dragon’s welcoming hole. 

Another growl built deep within Wrathion’s chest and escaped between now-parted teeth. “Anduin, please.” It was hard to call it a whisper when his voice hit so many different tones, but his hushed need was unmistakable. The king flashed him a knowing smile, and even though it was a dragon face he found in the lamplight this kind of exchange was comfortable. It was just like their first time back in the tavern, the way Wrathion had murmured as his clawed fingers sought out the back of his head.

But now there were no claws to egg him on. Even if the dragon had wanted to grab him, he wasn’t sure his draconic limbs could reach. Instead there were just the growls and trembles Anduin earned as his beard brushed his scales and his nose and tongue took in his heady scent. Anduin licked, and Wrathion threw back his head. The king curled his fingers, and a puff of smoke escaped up into the air. 

So caught up in the feeling and taste, Anduin didn’t notice Wrathion’s tail until it rubbed along the length of his cock. What may, at first, have been an accidental jerk soon became deliberate and practiced, rolling over the tent in his pants, increasing its pressure just as Anduin’s lips found the nub that had started to peek out the dragon’s hole.

Unable to worry just how _lewd_ he might look, Anduin rocked and grinded against the dragon’s appendage. He had needed this. Oh, he didn’t realize how desperate he’d been until his cock twitched and throbbed against the front of his pants. But it wasn’t just rubbing he wanted, and they both knew it. They knew what he intended to do, and even if the thought ripped the breath from his lungs and stained his cheeks crimson Anduin would see it through. 

He left Wrathion’s slit for a moment and sat back onto his heels. After wiping his hand against the fabric, he fumbled to open the laces. Finally, he pushed the strings to the side and rolled the pants down off his hips. His cock sprung free, and he wrapped his fingers around its base. While he’d normally give himself a few careful strokes, now he hardly trusted himself to slide forward. The last thing he needed was to finish into his fingers with his dragon consort still spread out across his bed.

But he was eager. Oh, was he eager, and no amount of awkwardness could deter him. He sat up onto his knees and tried the angle, but his cock just rubbed against Wrathion’s orange underside. On his second try he tilted his body forward, then down, then that wetness and velvety heat wrapped around him, drawing him in, tearing a cry from his lips.

For a moment, there was only that warmth. He’d never imagined he’d feel quite so hot; he’d never imagined he’d ripple and clench like this, and all he could do was yield to the feeling. Hands barely able to reach the mattress on either side of the dragon’s body, Anduin simply fell forward, cheek pressed against his scaled skin, chest rising and falling as he struggled to get a grip on himself and the way Wrathion’s muscles worked against his cock. 

It was almost too much to process at first, but then the pieces started to fall into place. Beyond the clenching, something else pressed flush against Anduin’s shaft. It twitched and throbbed, and with every shallow thrust Anduin felt its ridges rolling against his skin. Finally, realization hit him with a desperate sigh. The dragon’s clit he had sucked when teasing him with his tongue stretched several inches deeper inside of him, and now they were grinding together, enjoying that tightness together. He threw back his head and _clung_ to the dragon’s body just above his back limbs. 

He wanted to thrust, but he couldn’t, not like this, not splayed out above him like this. His mind called up that fateful drawing, but now he barely had it in him to feel ashamed. He rocked forward as well as he could, and lingered to feel Wrathion’s clit respond, rubbing and pressing into the nest of hair at the base of his shaft. He moaned. Wrathion growled. He loosened his grip and whispered in a single exhale, “Turn around, please.”

Wrathion lifted his head and nodded. Reluctantly, Anduin left the warmth of his body to scoot back, giving him room to roll over onto his feet. The royal bed groaned, and pillows scattered as he swung his long neck to turn, but neither of them paid it heed. Anduin’s hand simply lingered on his tail and his cock, still wet with the dragon’s juices, throbbed, desperate, between his legs.

He shifted forward, and tightened his grip on the dragon’s appendage, lifting it up and to the side to rest against his waist. Now Wrathion was exposed. He needed only to grasp his cock and ease himself in, mounting him like one dragon would mount another.

And from this angle he felt every ridge and bump drag along the underside of his shaft. He bit his lip and struggled not to finish right then when the dragon’s clit clenched and jerked in response, teasing him in all the right ways. Oh Light, his body felt good. It felt so right sinking into him like this, their bodies connected like this.

He released his grasp on Wrathion’s tail when he realized Wrathion was lifting it on his own and instead moved his palms down the dragon’s sides to grasp him, pulling him back, deepening the contact between them. His scales felt so soft under Anduin’s touch. His legs clenched, their talons digging in to the comforter. His draconic back arched, the crest casting a shadow against the wall that shivered and danced when Anduin rocked forward. 

With every thrust he felt his strong body respond with a kind of raw power that made the king feel small, insignificant. And yet it was him who drew out this response, his shaft pressing in that made Wrathion leak down onto his balls. It was him who drew out a growl from the dragon: a moan that Anduin felt deep inside his own chest.

“Oh, Titans, Anduin. Please.”

Anduin gasped and nodded. His long hair clung to the sweat on his brow when he moved his head.

Pressing his lips to the dragon’s spine, he tightened his grip and gave in to the feeling. It was easy to yield, to thrust with abandoned into the dragon’s heat, to grind against him and knock thighs with the back of his consort’s limbs. His fingers dug in to his scales, and he felt Wrathion tense and shake. His opening clenched tight around him, and then there was wetness, warmth leaking out onto Anduin’s legs and the duvet, now scratched and pulled, beneath them.

It was too much. The tightness, the heat, and the jerk Wrathion’s body gave against him dragged him over the edge. With another hard thrust, Anduin found his release, gasping as the tension that had built beneath the base of his shaft unfurled and he twitched and came into the dragon’s hole. A wave of ecstasy washed over him. Barely able to stay on his knees, he slumped, face against the dragon’s spine and lungs fighting for air as his cock twitched again and spilled down the dragon’s slit. 

He shook. Wrathion moaned beneath him. After a few dizzying moments the body beneath him shrank and became a familiar human whose back now pressed between Anduin’s legs.

“Ah, that—” What even was there to say? Luckily Wrathion didn’t press him for conversation, instead rolling over and burying his face in Anduin’s bare chest. His hair tickled. His smooth horns brushed his skin like a silent reminder of the dragon he’d just had under him, and Anduin held him close. 

Burying his nose in his thick, brown tresses, he drew in a breath. His scent was familiar again, and their bodies entwined in just the way they had learned in their youth. But when Anduin shifted his hips to get closer, he felt the tears in their sheets, tatters only draconic claws could have created, and that wetness of dragon cum that had leaked down his thighs and soaked the bedding beneath them…

Heat crept across his face, but he just held on to Wrathion, kissing his head and letting his own breathing steady. Finally, after a long moment, he tried his voice again. 

“That was good,” he whispered. Because it was. It truly was.

Wrathion shifted and nodded; his voice sounded uncharacteristically flustered. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, my dear. I, ah—it has been on my mind.”

“I did,” Anduin tightened his grip, fingers sliding down Wrathion’s waist. His cock, now flaccid, rested in the wet hair between Wrathion’s legs. 

“Then I suppose,” the dragon’s breath hitched. At first Anduin paid it no heed, but then Wrathion continued, “I suppose it is time to admit I did not accidentally find those drawings. I—my apologies.”

Anduin couldn’t hardly believe what he heard, but he chuckled. Warmth blossomed in the pit of his chest at the thought. So, this really had been on Wrathion’s mind for a while? Amusement and arousal and glee took hold as he laughed and embraced him, pressing a long kiss right between his horns. He whispered:

“Well, next time you have a creative idea you probably should just tell me. No need to plot against the king.”

“You’re absolutely right, your Majesty,” Wrathion tried to giggle, but his voice still sounded raw from the growls and gasping. His breath hitched. He nuzzled Anduin’s chest, pressing lips against skin, and then murmured, “I absolutely will.”


End file.
